


A Man's Home

by Leidolette



Category: 10 Cloverfield Lane (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fear, Gen, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-21 02:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12447364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leidolette/pseuds/Leidolette
Summary: Emmett's gone, Michelle's still there, and Howard has the cold castle he has always wanted.





	A Man's Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gaialux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/gifts).



Michelle knew what was happening to her. 

She knew, but that didn't mean that she could fight it any better. 

So maybe it was that strange affected infantilization she has been forced to adopt (that feels like it's becoming less and less affected every day) that makes Howard's death grip on his past loosen a bit. 

"I'm watching Field of Dreams," Howard said with his rumbling voice as Michelle filled her glass in the kitchen. She struggled to suppress the jerk that ran through her and almost spilled her water. Howard patted the seat next to him on the couch, "Why don't you join me."

"Sure. Of course," Michelle said, her voice soft and pitched a little higher than her natural range. Stiffly, Michelle walked over and sat down next to Howard. She felt like a posed doll -- all right angles and a straight back, glass clutched oddly in her hand, not drinking.

Howard looked like her polar opposite. He leaned back on the couch cushions with his eyes half-closed and his arm stretched out along the headrest. Howard had become more relaxed now that Emmett was gone. Who knew that murder was good for the soul?

For the next hour they sat there in silence. Every time Howard shifted his weight, all of Michelle's muscles tensed up painfully. She hoped that she could slink back to her room when the movie was over, but Howard started talking as soon as the credits rolled.

"You know, my father built one of these too," Howard said. 

Michelle was at a loss for a moment. She had no idea what he was talking about, and her mind spun wildly trying to figure it out. A couch? A fucking baseball diamond in the middle of the cornfield? Even as she desperately thought, a piece of her hated that she reacted so strongly, trying to cater to everyone of Howard's little whims. 

Then Howard haltingly waved his hand, indicating the entire shelter that surrounded them. "It took him five years to build his fallout shelter. Of course, my father built his for the Russians." Howard smiled a little at that, like it was quaint that his father had been scared of Russians instead of alien-created super plagues -- or whatever may have really happened up there on the surface. "I would go down there all the time as a child. The rows of canned peaches and powdered milk were so beautiful. Perfect."

Michelle nodded, hoping to appease him. _Yes, yes, I believe you, it was perfect,_ she tried to communicate with her eyes.

"There were no sunrises, or sunsets. No weather, no storms. One season was the same as another. I found it... comforting I suppose. It was like time didn't exist down there. No one had to get older. No one had to leave."

Emmet left, Michelle thought automatically. No, not left, killed. Murdered.

"And a man has to be prepared," Howard finished with that tone of authority that always made Michelle feel so horribly weak.

Michelle had not said a word the entire time, not wanting to say the wrong thing, not want to set Howard off. But now her growing uneasy curiosity dug at her -- she wanted to know why. Why had this stranger she was trapped with (this murderer) done all of this in the first place? Why had he built this elaborate bunker? Why had he been so sure about the attack when he was traveling?

"And... how did you know to prepare all this?" She tried for sweetness, smiling a little. 

But Howard's reminiscing was appeared to be at an end. "Work," he said shortly. Then, after a pause, "Lots of guys I worked with built them too."

Then, apparently done with the conversation, he rose from the couch (Michelle froze again), but he just went to his bedroom and closed the door behind him, leaving Michelle finally, blessedly along in the dark.

Michelle pictured hundreds of Howards out there spread across the land, each with his own Michelle. The thought made her dizzy. Did they have their own Emmett too? Or had he already been disposed of, inevitably, in every scenario?

She desperately hoped not, and that fervent wish was the strongest thing she'd felt in the last few weeks, besides the ever present fear.

But Michelle had wished for a lot of things since waking up in the bunker, and not a single one of them had come true.


End file.
